I Do Not

I do not want to kill myself. But I do want to die. I want to end my life and start anew.

I do not see the world as something separate from myself. I see the hidden connections that weave all of us together. I made an effort to understand them. Now I control them. They control me.

I am not me. There is no me. The self that inhabits this body is not singular. I am the result of the over consumption of selves. There is a primary. Somewhere. The self that first consumed. I have never met them.

I do not exist beyond the lies I tell. I tell the truth using only lies. A lie is a memetic entity that lives once told. I only exist because I say so.

I do not deserve recognition for my successes, for they are not mine. I am not worthy of the position I have, for I have stolen it.

I do not have the best interests of others at heart. I pillage and rape and burn, in the name of myself. I rise, with the promise that those around me will rise with me. None will rise higher than me. I wield my power with the trust and understanding of those I wield power over. I use my power to manipulate their trust.

I do not worry myself with the problems of those lesser than me.

I do not want to exist. I do not want to exist as I am. I do not want to continue to hurt.

I do not want to be alone. I do not want to scream into the void and hear my own voice echoed back. I do not want to look into the mirror and see my own face. I do not want to fill the hole in my soul with meaningless artifacts. I do not want to die.

I do not want to forget. I do not want to relive. I do not want to relapse.

I do not want forgiveness. I do not know what to do with it.

I do not want to start every goddamn motherfucking sentence with I.

I do not know what I am doing. I pose and posture. I exude an air of exception. I pass off my stumbling as intention. I guess I am lucky. Everything around me falls perfectly into place, without my doing, to create the perfect prison.